


Cover to Cover

by cyclomonster



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Mild Language, ghost!Carmilla, mellow angst, mental illness mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyclomonster/pseuds/cyclomonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blade of Hastur consumes the soul of anyone who wields it...sometimes, the translation's just right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover to Cover

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! So this is my first fanfic :) please be gentle! (or not. I can take it ^w^)

Laura ground the lead between the lines until it faded from gray to white.  
  
Methodized madness:  
  
1\. Ruin a pencil  
2\. Rip out a page  
3\. Sharpen another pencil  
4\. Pretend she could externalize depression. Maybe plead insanity for fun. Everyone wanted her to move on. She probably could, at this point, years later. But just for spite, she wouldn’t. Ok, maybe not spite—love, that’s the reason. Spite, love, whatever. She wasn’t letting go. Sometimes, that’s just the way the world needed to work.  
  
But she was running out of distractions. Graduation, employment, adjustment. Life was simple and simple meant complacence. Sometimes she wanted to start the cycle over, try to see how many ways she could imagine the end. Just to get out of this stillness.  
  
Oh God, here we go again.  
  
She ripped out another page, smiling dryly. “How’s this for a metaphor?” Her motions ceased as the ghost appeared in her periphery. Laura didn’t even jump. Carmilla laid on her couch, boots smudging the pristine fabric. (The smudges would leave when she did, but Laura wouldn’t mind if they stayed). Laura scrunched up her face, twirling an unsharpened pencil between her fingers. “ _Really ___not in the mood for patronizing.”  
  
Carmilla sighed, languidly flipping through the same book she always brought from that place between death and hell. “Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood for indulging your self-pity, cupcake.” She smiled warmly. “How have you been?” She stopped flipping pages and rested the book on her lap.  
  
“How do you think?” Laura swiveled her chair to face her. “And don’t you start going on about what's best for me and my happiness and all that nonsense.”  
  
“I won’t.” Carmilla sat up, tossing the book on the floor. Her eyes—finally young. Pale skin cast in an eerie glow, like starlight. So beautiful. “No matter how cute you are when you’re pissed.”  
  
Laura chuckled and took her hand, threading their fingers together. “What about you?” she said. “How have you been?”  
  
“Eh.” Carmilla shrugged. “It stings less, I guess. Doesn’t really burn anymore. And sometimes I get lost between here and there. Darkness still scares the shit out of me.” She smirked. “But hey, I’m a centuries-old badass, if memory serves.”  
  
Laura smiled and shook her head. “Can I ask you a question?”  
  
“Shoot.”  
  
“How different am I?” Laura briefly met her eyes. “I mean, since, you know.” It was never too late for euphemisms.  
  
“Mmm.” Carmilla rubbed her thumb over the back of her hand, pursing her lips. “You haven’t changed.”  
  
“Is, um…” Laura frowned. “Is that a good thing?”  
  
Carmilla placed her elbow on her lap, resting her chin in her palm. Even now, her gaze was piercing. Comforting, though. “You tell me.”  
  
And here we went again. Laura rolled her eyes and laughed. “ _You ___obviously haven’t changed, Miss Philosophy major.”  
  
“Well.” Carmilla shrugged. “I figure you could use a little routine to make up for all that craziness.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Laura looked over her shoulder at the poor, desecrated notebook on her desk. “You’re right, I guess.”  
  
“Damn straight.” Carmilla turned her head back toward her with a gentle finger. “You’re running out of paper,” she whispered.  
  
Laura’s eyes filled. “I know.”  
  
“And I’m running out of time.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Carmilla withdrew her hand. “I’m just as scared as you are.” She shrank, hands clasped in her lap, gaze on the floor. It hurt to see her like this, without emptiness, without peace, without any of the things death promised. “Laura,” she said in a shaking voice. “Laura.” And again. “Laura?”  
  
Laura flinched out of her trance and fumbled to grasp her hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry. What is it, baby?”  
  
“Can you just, hold me?” Carmilla tightened her grip.  
  
Laura sat beside her, arms closing around her, and pressed their foreheads together. She tried to imagine a better end, but Carmilla was here, and she had no more distractions. “For as long as you’ll let me.”


End file.
